Golden Eyes
by piiyaya
Summary: Most of the comedy in the world has tragic undercurrents flowing through it. One sided, KahoxLen. R and R.
1. Chapter 1

Gahhh. I'm so lazy to type this. R and R! And follow me on tumblr. lovelostlock .tumblr .com. Erase the spaces, not the dots. :)

This is soo weird. Just like me. Well, what to expect? It's Marie-chan you're talking to. Haha. Love you. And your review, of course. Haha. Kidding.

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><p>My first recollection of Aunt Kahoko was of an old woman chopping wood at the foot of the stairs. She had powerful arms, and her legs, with her skirt tucked up, showed white and firm like those of a young woman. She would grunt with each impact of the heavy axe upon the knotted log beneath her. Then, putting a foot on the log, she would lift the axe, swinging it over her head in a swift up-curve, and bring it down. If she missed, she would curse the axe mightily, but if she succeeded in splitting the log, she would sigh with relief, lifting her shoulder and straightening her aching spine. Then she would spit on her palms and raise the axe overhead once would think she played the violin when she was young?<p>

I was a small boy then, and I would sit on the steps watching her. She was a powerful woman indeed, and full of life and lusty humor. It seems to me now, remembering her, that her one-imposed mission in life was to make the world bright with laughter. "Don't watch me idiotically like that," she would say to me mock-angrily, pausing from her chopping. "If I miss this time, I might **split your little head instead**. Better watch out!" Then if she missed she would chase me up into the house, laughing uproariously and swinging the axe as if she would really split my head.

One night, when we were about to go to bed, Aunt Kahoko jumped up from the floor and clutching at her skirt, shrieked. "Centipede! Centipede inside my skirt!" She had gathered a corner of her skirt into a pouch where the alleged centipede was trapped. "Centipede, **quick!**" She laid that part of her skirt on the table, and we little ones began to beat it with sticks, stones, and bare hands.

"I guess it is dead now," she said at last, letting go of her hold and loosening her skirt, **to find out that it was only a starched end of the cord of her underskirt. **

Far into the night she would tell us stories until our other Aunt, her sister, would complain, saying that we were too young to listen to her lusty stories, but Aunt Kahoko would say, "Don't mind your Aunt Nami now. Listen to this one..." And she would begin another story.

When she was a young girl in her teenage years, a boy fell in love with her. Both of them was studying at Seiso Academy, and she told us that they are both participants of the concours, a contest that was occasionally held in their school. He was the son of a famous pianist named Hamai Misa, and he was a violinist. He was famous that time for his excellence in playing the violin, and he was the one who taught Aunt Kahoko how to play too. He would always had a concert with his mother, and would include Aunt Kahoko since his mother grew fond of her as well. Aunt Kahoko said Aunt Nami was the campus journalist too that time and they were the apple of her blue eyes since they fit into her favorite topic: **Violin Romance.**

She said he gave her gifts-jewelries, stuffed toys, and many other cute things which of course, she would never accept. Even though she knew herself she had fallen in love with the guy too, she never speak openly of her love. One of my cousins asked the obvious question why, and she said: "**I would never accept those things he wanted me to have unless he knew how to give me more importance than his music.**"

Of course, a person she was, she never ended the story sadly. She would often tell us the story of one of her dates with that man, or her other suitors, but we always notice that she always tell us the story that happened between her and that guy. When we asked her how did he looked like, her eyes would shine while describing his well erect body, his azure hair, his fingers that weaves his music and of course, her favorite part and the thing they had in common: Golden eyes. But whenever I ask her what is his name, she would always shrug her shoulders and say she had forgotten it already but no need to worry since he will always pass by at our house and drop some hellos. **Of course, that man never came.**

I imagine that Aunt Kahoko must have been a lovely young woman, for even in old age she was beautiful. Her faculties remained unimpaired with the exception of her mind, **which had somehow suffered a slight and fanciful distortion of harmless sort.** It was an abrupt change from normalcy; I think it started that **incident** that resulted in her humorous storied which, as the years went by, became more and more fantastic.

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><p>Thanks for reading. That was quite short. Haha. Sorry. I love you. :)<p>

Preview for Chapter 2:

"He passed by and winked at me!" she said mysteriously.

"Who passed by and winked at you?" we asked her.

"Who else?" she answered.


	2. Chapter 2

Gahhh. I'm so lazy to type this. R and R! And follow me on tumblr. lovelostlock .tumblr .com. Erase the spaces, not the dots. :)

No one reviewed... Well, that's life. x)) Your story won't be like that often. Haha. :| But still, I want to update. Guess what? After this, I'll be typing The Promise Chapter 3. That's actually short, because I want your imagination to swirl and your hopes to rise of what's going to happen.

Lovelots, Me. :)

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><p><em>I imagine that Aunt Kahoko must have been a lovely young woman, for even in old age she was beautiful. Her faculties remained unimpaired with the exception of her mind, <strong>which had somehow suffered a slight and fanciful distortion of harmless sort.<strong> It was an abrupt change from normalcy; I think it started that **incident** that resulted in her humorous storied which, as the years went by, became more and more fantastic._

Everyday, you know, she would go down and pull up the weeds in the yard. She would stay there under the sun for a long time. This was the only thing she could do now that she was really too feeble to swing the axe, although it took us quite a while to dissuade her from chopping wood. We little boys in the family were all grown up and husky, and we could do this work ourselves. But she laughed at what she called our puniness and incapacity. She would show us how it should be done.

One morning, while she was weeding the yard, she suddenly ran up into the house, breathless with excitement. "What has happened now?" we asked her. She would not tell us at first. She was dancing around and around like a little girl. Oh, but she was like one who had just seen a dream walking or something-only, it turned out that it was not a dream at all-**to her**. She took a bath and put on a clean dress and fixed herself up good and pretty. Mexicana oil for her white hair, powder for her face, and a little touch of perfume at her throat. And when at last she turned to face us, her **golden eyes, **-great God!-were shining!

"He passed by and winked at me!" she said mysteriously.

Of course, we thought she was joking as usual. We did not know it was the beginning of a series of delightful lunacies which were to enliven the household all through the remaining years of her life with us.

""Who passed by and winked at you now?" we asked.

"Who else?" she answered.

Then we remembered and laughed aloud, but now she glared at us and said, as solemnly as you please. "Listen here all of you, it is not a matter of laughter this time. It is serious."

It was then we saw that her second childhood **had caught with her at last.** "I am sure he will return," she said. "He promised me he will, you know. I told him not to wait for me, because I'll be there. But he will come and fetch me. Because I'm always late. But he's back! As always!"

We pretended to bear with her and suffered to her to indulge her fancies, but Aunt Nami, her 'sister' faced her and tried to reason with her.

"Sister," she said. "this is foolish. You are over seventy now and the man has been dead all these years. What you saw was merely in your mind. You are a foolish old woman."

"I am not!" said Aunt Kaho. "I know what I am saying! I saw him pass by! He was wearing the same t-shirt he used to wear last year."

"Last year?" Aunt Nami said.

"Yes, last year. Remember? He brought me the wedding ring, although I told him I love him and did not intend to marry him at all."

"Don't be crazy!" said Aunt Kahoko. "People might hear you. What you say happened thousands of years ago!"

"He passed by," the older one insisted, "and I know he will return with another gift. I don't care. I will not talk to him. I don't love him that much!"

"From the way you act," said her 'sister', "it looks as if you do love him."

Aunt Kahoko laughed coquettishly. "Maybe if he will return now with a good fight I shall reconsider my words!"

Of course the man did not return, for he was merely the old woman's dream in the beautiful twilight of her years. And when we told her about it the next morning, she had completely forgotten although she said with a smile she would not be surprised if he did turn up, for he was the most persistent suitor indeed. That morning, Aunt Kahoko went down to see my sister who sold cloth in the market, which was behind our house. The old woman wanted a few yards of a red cloth.

"What for?" my sister asked.

""You know," she said, and she whispered something confidential which made my sister blush violently.

"No!" she laughed. "That is not true, old woman. You are only imagining it!"

But Aunt Kaho insisted that it was so, and that she **not want to be caught unprepared. **"I'm not crazy," she said.

Nothing came of this, of course, except than when our sister told us about it that evening on her return from the market, we had the best and the longest laugh of our lives. The old woman, who was now a little hard of hearing, sat in a corner of the room, staring at us suspiciously, but when we asked her if what she had said was true, she said she did not know what we're talking about.

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><p>Thanks for reading. That was quite short. Haha. Sorry. I love you. :)<p>

I'm a lame writer. Yes, writer. Not author. haha 3 3


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